heck - back in the 70's while taking fermentations we had a weekly wine tasting; at the end of one class the teaching assistants confessed that the labels had all been switched on the bottles; it dumbfounded some of the wine snobs in the class - and vindicated those of us who insisted we liked some of the cheap label wines we'd been served.

Humph. Rapaire IS a pacifist. You don't shoot at him and he won't shoot at you...and if you DO shoot at him he firmly believes that there ain't nothin' quite so peaceful as a dead man (as long as it isn't him).

This evening I'm going to West Yellowstone and then into the Park tomorrw. I'll be back Monday, God willin' and the snow don't rise too much. West is expecting up to a foot tomorrow, and high temps in the single digits. But we have warm clothes and heavy-duty coats (my parka is rated to -40F and I'll layer the clothing) and boots (Sorels, with felt liners) so we should be okay.

My cell phone rang this afternoon just as stood to go fetch my 2:00 client. It was some one with PRI's Marketplace, asking for additional comments to those I had made on a recent on-line survey I had to responded to regarding the presidential candidates and the economy. I didn't have time to talk. She politely asked when would be a good time to call back.

As I recall, most of what I wrote in that survey was on behalf of the 'little guy.' Had the call come in 2 minutes before the appointment time with one of my private practice clients, I may have decided to be 5 minutes late with the appointment for the sake of my own ego. But that 'little guy' in the waiting room of the public clinic has spent most of his life being treated as not important enough to not be kept waiting. It would have been the height of hypocrisy had I chosen to be late with him for a phone call such as this.

Ohh, Mom, it's growing late. How silent now, your garden gate. How still in shadow your porch swing, Your parlor door and bronzed bell-ring. Where are your children, Mom of mine? Have they left you far from mind? Have they wandered, free but wild? Alas, the sting of ingrate child, How sharper, deeper and in truth, More poison than a serpent's tooth! Come, sit with me, and share a glass, Until this sorrow deep shall pass. Oh, let it pass, this mother's sorrow -- I'm sure they'll all be back tomorrow! Offering breakfast, and, I guess, Begging for some of your B.S.

I've been organizing the books in my front room. Big job. Fifteen feet of wall space six shelves high. I'm up to the letter M now in the fiction authors as I put them back. I've culled about six linear feet of books so far, but I don't know if that's enough to fit everything in here. Amongst other sources of books, I've opened several boxes that have sat it my hall for a while. My sister has been clearing out at her house. I wish I'd opened these earlier--included in there is my father's three-volume set of Child ballads (separated from the rest of the collection at estate settling time). Back home again, finally, with most of his other books. Means I'll have to work on the shelves in my office as well.

It's enough to get them in order. Who has the time to catalog them? Oy!

Most books I will read once...and that's enough. The books that I choose to read again and again are extremely rare...I could count them on the fingers of one hand.

And yet I keep ALL those other books. Why? Is it that I like to be reminded of the things I once read but never shall again? Is it that I can't let go of the past? Is it sheer inertia? Is it the desire (like Woody Allen in one of those funny movies) to impress visitors and prospective dates/lovers with my stunning and fascinating collection of books?

LOL!!! Well, it's not that last one, anyway....

Is it the fear that I might someday want to reread various of those books, so if I were to get rid of them now, then I would lose the chance later to do so?

I'm seeing a lot of "perfectly good books" that will be finding new homes, either via eBay or the local half price book store. Lots of duplicates, some of titles I can't figure out why on earth I picked them up (some were in anticipation of grad school, but were never needed. Now they're obsolete--so now what?) I don't do that like I used to--I don't have the time or the money to browse books stores much.

Okay, like, I was lookin' threw my littel black book, eh? Like, the one where I keep all the good stuff about my old girlfeinds, eh?

I can, like, honestly say that I'm seeing a lot of perfectly good skanks that will be finding new boyfriends, eh, either on the Net or maybe by eBay or else at the local half price donut shop or maybe outside the Beer Store, eh? Lots of flippin' skankette duplicates, some of which I can't figure out why the flip I picked 'em up in the first place (some was barrely outta flippin' Junyer High skool!) and not one was flippin' in anticipation of grad school, but I guess they was neeeded at the time, eh? Now they are totally flippin' obsoleete--so now what? I ain't got nowhere's with Officer Dana and my flippin' biodegradable clock is tickin'!!! I can't flippin' waist no more time like I used to, eh? I don't have the time or the money to cruise skank flippin' bullevard no more.

It's a cold, wet day out there mom. Here's some of my homemade chicken soup. I think you'll find it is just what you need to warm you up, despite the nonsense about all sorts of fancy dancy designer foods you hear from Rapaire when he's around here sucking up looking after you.

It was -22F (-30C) this morning at the Visitors' Center near Old Facefull. When we arrived home (two hours and forty-five minutes after leaving West Yellowstone, MT) or rather, at the restaurant for dinner, it was 0.4F.

MY daddy was a Union Man through and through, and so were my grandfathers and uncles. My parents and grandparents were members of the Democratic Party and supported FDR; my father and my father-in-law both were in the CCC (my daddy served two hitches!).

You obviously have my ancestry confused with your own neo-conservative progenitors.

Well, I come from an odd combination of talents. Although my father was a moderate Conservative who supported Ike, my mother was a demonstrating Socialist in her youth, a liberal all her life, and drove the family station wagon to Mississippi in the early Sixties to assist voter registration during the peak of the civil rights movement.

So I grew up respecting individual freedom and dignity and rights, while also honoring the brilliance of good organization, production and management. Sigh. Of course, there is no place in the world for such as I.

Your cold is still leaking down here, Rap. I wish you'd get that gap fixed. Brrrr! I picked up a pot roast and have it going in the crock pot for dinner this evening. It'll still be cold outside but that comfort food smell will hit us when we walk in the door from my son's guitar lesson.

rolling back the thread a bit - You got to see Trumpeters? I've only seen them in an aviary - almost any swan you see here in the East is a mute swan. (with an occasional black swan - which if I recall is Australian in origin(

The Tundra (Whistling) Swan has been seen quite a bit in the Puget Sound area of late, particularly in the Skagit Valley. They're in fields along the highway (I think this is the bird I was seeing out there the last time I drove north from Seattle in the winter). Canada Geese are all over the place also. They may have finally officially tipped over into the "pest" category.

The Canada Geese are special agents. They are in the front lines of our plan to take over the USA and turn it into several Canadian provinces. William Shatner secretly controls all of them, but there's no way you'll ever figure out how he does it!